After the Breakup, He Pursued Her Relentlessly

I grabbed the glass of red wine next to me and drank it all in one gulp.

“It’s fine,” I said.

Lucas's tone remained emotionless. “Don’t drink too much.”

He never liked the smell of alcohol on his partner’s breath.

I had always respected his preference, and for three years, I had rarely touched alcohol. My tolerance for it had long declined.

But now, I slowly poured myself another glass.

“I can handle my wine.”

“You know, I only see Isabella as a sister,” Lucas continued. “Taking care of her is just me keeping a promise to her mom. Don’t let this upset you.”

Isabella looked apologetic. “Lucas and I have known each other since we were kids. We’re like siblings. Please don’t be angry because of me, Harper.”

I glanced at both of them, puzzled. “Why are you two so worked up over a glass of wine?”

After finishing the glass, I stood up.

"I'll pay the bill, you guys take your time eating, don't let me spoil your fun."

I left the restaurant at a leisurely pace.

The autumn evening breeze was a bit chilly.

Carrying my high heels in one hand, I walked barefoot along the riverside promenade.

The waves lapped against the shore in a soothing rhythm.

Slightly tipsy, I looked at the path ahead.

It hit me suddenly--wasn’t this the same route I used to follow Lucas on during our university days?

I had fallen for Lucas at first sight in college.

Young love had been fiery and all-consuming. I pursued him for a whole year before we finally became a couple.

People often envied me, saying I was lucky to have won over someone as elusive as Lucas.

But only I knew that he had never broken his principles for me.

I found a bench to sit on and pulled out my phone. I happened to see a recent social media post by Isabella.

In the familiar front passenger seat of Lucas's car, the photo focused on a candy apple.

The caption: [Candy apples from this store are the best.]

My fingers hovered over the screen, motionless.

Lucas had a mild case of germophobia. He never allowed me to eat in the front seat of his car.

I smiled, but tears welled up in my eyes.

I always thought love was about mutual compromise and understanding, where someone eventually had to give in.

I never minded his habits.

What hurt was that his principles and rules could be so easily set aside for someone else.

Lucas sent me a message asking if I had made it home.

I didn't reply.

Seeing no response, he messaged again: [The food wasn’t great today. Next time, let’s try a different place.]

After a while, another message came through: [Are you asleep? Remember to light the calming incense before bed. Good night.]

I scrolled through our past messages. They were filled with my long, rambling updates, met with his occasional short replies of “OK” or “Got it.”

When I got home and finished my shower, I noticed a familiar car parked below my balcony.

As if sensing my presence, the car window rolled down. I quickly retreated from the balcony.

The next morning, I went to work with dark circles under my eyes.

When I stepped outside, there was the same familiar car.

I tried to act as if I hadn’t seen it and kept walking.

But then my phone rang. It was the taxi driver. “Miss, your location is too tricky to find. Could you cancel and book another ride?”

“Can’t find the place? What’s the point of being a taxi driver?” I muttered, canceling the ride.

The black car pulled up beside me, and the window rolled down to reveal Lucas's familiar, sharp features. “I’ll drive you,” he offered.

Seeing that I was running late, I quietly got into the passenger seat.

On a typical day, I would have been chatty, filling the car with conversation.

But today, the only sound was the whisper of the wind outside.

Lucas seemed uncomfortable in the silence.

“You haven’t had breakfast, have you?” he asked.